Baby
by chickennugger
Summary: Dean finds Castiel in the Impala. Just a short one shot. Takes place after season 8.


Dean awoke to the sound of a car horn.

"Goddamn punks," he muttered, putting his pillow over his head to muffle the beeping. "It's two in the morning. Go to sleep."

Suddenly he sat upright. He would've known that sound anywhere, and that wasn't just any car.

Dean hastily pulled on his boots, flung open the door, and ran out to the hotel parking lot. A '67 Impala sat on the wet-from-rain asphalt. It beeped once more, then stopped.

"Baby," he crooned, running a hand along the hood of the car. He opened the door and took a look inside. "What happ-" He froze.

A person in a muddy trenchcoat was curled up in the backseat of the car.

"-ened to you?" Dean finished. He squinted through the darkness. "Cas?"

The person turned slowly to face him. It was indeed Cas, but he didn't look so good.

"Hello, Dean," he said in a small voice.

"Cas, what are you doing in my car?"

"I came to seek your help. I got in a bit of trouble down at that bar you told me about the other night..." He whimpered. Dean saw blood on his coat and opened the side door. He held out his hand. "Come on. You'd better get inside."

Castiel looked to him, then to the outstretched hand. He got out of the car with Dean's help, resting an arm on his shoulder as they walked the short way to the hotel room.

As soon as they got inside, Cas staggered and fell on the bed. Dean went to get some towels and a first-aid kit.

"Cas, if you don't mind my asking, why did the car alarm go off?"

"I sat on the car horn," Castiel said simply.

"Uh... okay."

"When I got into your car, I accidentally pressed the button which makes the beeping sound."

"How did you get into my car, anyway?"

"Sam showed me how to pick a lock." He seemed pleased with himself at that.

Dean snorted. "Of course." He came back to the bed, looking over the ex-angel's damage. His clothes were torn in a few places and had dirt, blood, and rain water on them. His jaw was starting to swell, and his nose was bloody. There were a couple bruises and cuts here and there, but nothing too serious. His clear, blue-as-a-summer-sky eyes watched as Dean took a towel and ran it under the sink. He had strong hands. Hunter's hands. Castiel knew what they were capable of. They could kill, they could stab, they could mangle and maim and cut and hurt. Dean was as tough as nails, but Castiel also knew that those hands could be used for other things. Things like wiping away tears and holding bodies close and patting backs.

"You said this happened at a bar."

Castiel nodded. "Yes."

"What did you have to do to get this?" He started to clean up his face, gently removing the blood and grime with a washcloth.

"I came across a group of men. They said some things. They were clearly intoxicated, so I know they didn't mean them. But they got angry at me for some reason."

"You couldn't just zap your way out of there? You don't have to try and be brave all the time, Cas." He rolled his eyes.

"Have you forgotten, Dean? I'm no longer an angel. I can't 'zap' my way out of anywhere."

"Oh. Right. What were they saying to you?"

"Nothing of importance. Just some things meant to hurt me."

"Like what?"

"They called me some words synonymous to homosexual. I don't understand. Why should someone's sexual orientation confirm what kind of person they are? How could that be a reason to be cruel?"

Dean sighed. "I don't know, Cas. It just is here." He took a fingertip's worth of antibiotic ointment and spread it on a small cut on the other man's cheek.

Castiel jumped. "That hurts," he whined.

"Hold," Dean said, trying to apply more ointment, "still! Stop moving!"

After Castiel got all clean and fixed up with band-aids, he felt himself slipping away. It was late. Very late. Bar fights are enough to tire you out, but walking all the way to a hotel in the middle of nowhere is what made him really exhausted.

"Wait," Dean said. "Cas. Wake up. You can't sleep in those. Here, you can borrow some of my stuff." He threw a t-shirt and a pair of boxers at the nearly-sleeping Castiel.

He woke up enough to take off his coat and tie. As the t-shirt came off, Dean saw purple bruises forming on his side.

"Oh, man," he said. "Look at you. You sure you're okay? You got beat up pretty good out there."

Castiel nodded drowsily, then changed into Dean's clothes. He laid his head down on the pillow, then his body slackened, ready to plunge into sleep.

Dean realized that there was only one bed. He shrugged. Hell, he didn't even care anymore.

"Scoot over," he whispered, hopping into the bed.

Castiel complied. "Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you come out here? Without Sam?"

"I... just needed a break. You know? I'll come back to him. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. We'll see."

"Oh. You're not running away, are you?"

"What? No. As annoying as that little nerd is, I could never leave him."

"That's good. Team Free Will, right?"

Dean chuckled. "Right."

They laid together in comfortable silence. Dean had thought Cas had gone to sleep, but then he spoke.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For taking care of me."

Dean smiled and pressed his lips to Castiel's temple. "I'll always take care of you," he said. "Baby."


End file.
